


The Morning After

by Ellitheria



Series: Nowhere Else to Go [3]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: "Nowhere Else to Go" Universe, Cannon Divergence after The Deer Hunter, F/M, Humor, In which Reddington is compare to a gossiping suburban housewife, Reddington is being Reddington, the morning after, undercover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellitheria/pseuds/Ellitheria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Reddington is compared to a gossiping suburban housewife, Liz and Donald go undercover, and Reddington secretly tests Donald to see if he's good enough for Liz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> A little lighthearted fic to pave the way for the more dramatic one coming (hopefully tonight!) Happy dramatic, no worries - nothing sad like Time of Our Lives, but it will be awesome! ;)

It wasn't until they entered the Post Office that Donald Ressler tensed up.

Liz looked at him in confusion - so far, he'd had yet to show any sign of hesitation about the night before. This morning had been full of sleepy kisses, shower mishaps (his was apparently too small for two people) and burnt toast (neither of them could cook, as it turns out). They'd both been reluctant to leave, knowing that the house lulled them into a false sense of security, believing that two people could just be together, without the worries of telling their boss, the reality of the dangers of their job (one of them could die today - it was always a possibility) or the baggage they both brought to the relationship.

"Are you alright?" she asked, jabbing the elevator button harder than was probably necessary (she was only a little concerned that he was having second thoughts)

"Fine," he deadpanned, tugging on his tie and clearing his throat.

"Ress. I know you."

_(Damn her for echoing his words from only a few days ago.)_

"Reddington knows everything."

"Right, and...?" she wasn't seeing the connection.

Donald shifted from foot to foot, then sighed heavily.

"Liz, I don't regret a single second of what happened," he began, cupping her face softly and staring into her eyes in a way that made her shiver. The elevator dinged, alerting them to the fact that they had arrived at their floor. He stepped far enough back to appear professional, though his gaze didn't leave hers as the doors slid open. He realized they had to move soon, unless they wanted to explain what was happening to a whole floor of people. "But I was hoping we could keep it personal - between us, no interference from Cooper or our nosy co-workers, or Raymond- _fucking_ -Reddington. I wanted to explore this, just the two of us, before we had to deal with other people. I wanted us to know what was going on before other people did. But you know as well as I do that when we walk in there and Reddington sees us, he's going to know and the man is nosier than a gossiping suburban housewife and won't leave us the hell alone until he gets his details. I just - "

Liz smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "We'll be fine," she assured him, cutting off his rant. She placed a hand on his arm to steer him out of the elevator before it closed on them. "We're going to have enough trouble making this relationship work, we may as well deal with everything at once."

Ressler nodded, though he didn't look convinced in the slightest.

"Well, we don't really have a choice, I suppose. Reddington says jump and we say, "how high?" so there's no way out of this meeting anyway. It's just wishful thinking that we could ditch this place for more than eight hours."

Liz snorted in amused agreement, and that was when Reddington chose to walk up to them.

Ressler groaned, immediately observing the shit-eating grin the older man was wearing.

" _Fas_ icinating!" he said gleefully, grinning. "You're here! Alright then, we can begin. Come, come!"

They followed, though they were less happy about the situation than Reddington seemed to be.

"Today we have a _very_ interesting Blacklister, indeed!"

_Oh, do tell_ , Ressler mused internally, crossing his arms over his chest and trying (failing) to keep his eyes from meeting Liz's. (Normally, they would share an eye roll at Reddington's dramatics, but today Ressler was more than a little wary that any contact he had with Liz could be used against him).

"I need Donald and Lizzie to go undercover this evening," Reddington said, and the gleeful grin was still in place as he had Aram click a few buttons on the computer. A photograph of a well-kept, clean shaven man popped up on the screen. He was the iconic image of "tall, dark, and handsome" with striking blue eyes. The picture looked like one you might find on a billboard with a cheesy one-liner meant to raise clientele.

Liz raised an eyebrow and wondered in passing what her undercover assignment would look like this time.

Reddington continued, "Today's Monster of the Week is Jackson Webb, a  well-to-do, seemingly harmless divorce lawyer. A profession which is completely uninteresting to me as a general rule. What _is_ interesting, however, is that an alarming number of his client's spouses perish ... tragically ... before the cases can be settled in court."

"I assume," Ressler cut in. "That in all cases, the deceased spouse stood to gain a lot of money."

"Very good, Donald," Reddington praised, and Ressler bristled (annoyed) at the compliment. " _A lot_ of money. And normally I wouldn't care about this type of man, scum of the earth, yes, but small fish in comparison to others still roaming free."

"But?" Liz asked, curious to know the reason Reddington had his panties in a bunch about this specific divorce lawyer.

"According to one of my sources, the wife of one of my... _suppliers,_ is seeking a divorce and has hired Mr. Webb. I am concerned that my inside man, so to speak, might befall the same unfortunate death as the men - and women - before him. He is replaceable, of course, but the effort of keeping him alive may well be less than the effort to replace him with someone just as trustworthy."

"So basically," Ressler began, fully aware of the fact that each time he opened his mouth, he endeared himself toward Reddington less and less (not that he cared, he didn't need the man's approval - for anything). But he was annoyed by forces out of his control today (mainly, having to come into work instead of staying in bed with Liz all day) and found himself speaking more freely than he had done in a while. "We're running errands for you again."

"Ressler," Liz said, her voice part-soothing and part-warning.

"No, Lizzie, let the man speak," Reddington admonished. "Yes, Ressler, you're running my errands. But don't forget, in the process, you'll be saving the lives of many unhappily married men and women."

Ressler crossed his arms over his chest and said no more. He motioned for Reddington to continue.

He did.

(Ressler wished immediately after that he hadn't)

"I need Lizzie to go see Mr. Webb about a divorce from her cheating husband, Donald Ressler."

"Oh, _no fucking way_ ," Ressler grumbled, turning his back and stalking off. The door of his and Liz's shared office slammed shut behind him. Liz winced, and Reddington looked around the room (Aram looked away awkwardly and Cooper waved at Liz to go fetch her partner).

"Now, I wonder what's got Donald's panties in a bunch this morning," Reddington mused, amusement dancing across his eyes as he watched Liz close the office door gently behind her.

Aram regarded him wearily and didn't respond.

Reddington grinned. "Hmm."

+

+

+

Back in their shared office, Liz gently closed the door before turning to her partner (boyfriend, lover, fling? Whatever this was). He was tugging at his tie again, pacing the room. His lips were turned down in a deep frown.

"Ressler," Liz began, but he didn't let her continue.

"The man pisses me off! His very presence angers me," he groaned, slumping into his chair and rubbing a weary hand over his eyes. "He _knows_ , and he's doing this to play with me. With us."

"I don't think even Reddington is capable of picking a blacklister specifically to mess with us because we slept together last night."

"No, he picked a blacklister and is making us go undercover because he knows our intentions and thoroughly enjoys messing with people's heads."

Liz considered that, her lips threatening to turn up in a grin. (Because really, Ressler was endearing when he was upset like this). "Our intentions, huh?" she said instead, forcing her lips to form a straight line (because laughing at an upset Ressler would do nothing to resolve the situation faster so they could get undercover and get this over with).

"I kind of figured "I love you" summed up what I wanted out of this relationship," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes up to meet hers. He was playing with a pen now, and Liz found herself unable to respond to his comment. He was sitting in his chair, legs slightly apart, leaning back and offering her one of his smug grins. All Liz wanted to do was kiss the grin off of his face, but even with the blinds closed, she figured that might be pushing it. (Actually, what she wanted to do was climb into his lap and finish what they'd started this morning before her phone went off. But that was neither here nor there).

"Regardless," Liz said, grinning back at him finally. "If the whole office didn't know about us before, leaving Reddington alone with them while the two of us are in here, blinds closed, is sure to rectify that swiftly."

Ressler conceded her point, and stood up. Liz reached out, running her fingers through his hair to restyle it where he had messed it up with his worrying. She straightened and tightened his tie, and then pressed her hands against his chest.

"And anyway, Reddington might be the concierge of crime, but it's not like he's my dad - " _at least, she didn't think so_ " - so it's not like we need his permission. I am a grown woman and can do what I want. I'm sure this isn't some elaborate setup. How bad could this undercover assignment be, anyway?"

+

+

+

_"Pretty fucking bad!"_

Were his exact words seven hours later as they both ran from Mr. Webb's henchmen, over bridges and through alleyways (her in heals and him in flip flops, because that was what Reddington made them wear). Neither of them had guns, however Liz was still holding a copy of the divorce papers she had gotten from Webb before he discovered their deceit. They rounded another corner, thankfully before the henchmen could see where they'd gone (said henchmen continued running in the opposite direction, yelling to each other as they checked each empty alleyway.

Ressler stopped, leaning against the wall of the alley and sucking in huge gasps of breath. Liz paused beside him, her hands on her knees, wheezing.

"Oh my god, I'm going to kill him," Ressler gasped. Liz chuckled, and before Ressler could pause to think that making noise was a bad idea, they were both laughing hysterically, doubled over. "What a shitty day. Let's go home, Liz. We outran them. Let's find Reddington, give him a piece of our mind, and go home."

Liz nodded in agreement, still unable to talk as she sucked in another deep breath.

What they didn't see was Raymond Reddington standing in the background, chuckling in amusement as he motioned for Dembe to call off the henchmen following the two agents.

"Did he meet your expectations?" Dembe inquired, voice neutral as he dialed a number on his cell.

"The man can't act for _shit_. He was literally unable to act like he didn't love her, which was what put Webb on their scent — so, yes, he passed. He'll do just fine for Liz."

Reddington chuckled to himself one more time, twirled his fedora back on top of his head, and tipped it in farewell to Dembe as he sauntered back to the van where Liz and Donald were expecting to find him.

_He'll do just fine, indeed._


End file.
